My poetry, my art, my life

People tell me I waste my time, Turning emotions into rhyme, They tell me to come back to reality, That my art is just sick poetry, Its been called a non-violent crime, Maybe its because I've lost my mind, Their point of view i just cant see, So I think its just jealousy, So I'll keep going, Wasting my time, Telling the world whats on my mind.

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